Crash Course
by Shadow-Cipher
Summary: Anyone who has experienced Fallout 4 has surely played the Hunter/Hunted quest, but what's it like to see the quest through the eyes of the Gunners as the Courser destroys everything they worked so hard to build?


The wasteland is a cruel and unforgiving place, a lesson many harshly learn before they can take notice. There are creatures running amok with stingers and claws that would seek your demise as soon as you entered their line of sight. Some people would pacify themselves to the danger, fortify behind thick walls and tall towers, hiding with their friends as they wait for the danger to pass them by. Others would challenge it directly, race heroically towards the very thing that seeks their death in hopes that they can kill it first. Both sides are correct in their train of thought, but as they are lacking in the other side's perspective, they die.

You do need to be willing to fight. That much is true. If you can't convince yourself to raise a gun against those who would wish you harm - or a similarly weaponized object - then you can foresee a short life for yourself. The opposite is not cowardly, though. To hide and fortify is not a fool's errand. Those who rush at death sometimes fail to notice how outclassed they are. They see a monster and because they can picture it dying in their minds, they insist it will go down.

In that mindset, you need to know when to bunker down. You need to be intelligent enough to know when a threat is better not approached. If something's got better weaponry than you, if it is very well fortified, if the possible damage isn't worth the reward of victory, then you should bunker up and keep quiet.

Nobody seems to learn this lesson. Even I can't stake a claim to my own words. There are lots of dangerous things in the wastes, and I've seen, fought, and fled from many of them. I have seen Radscorpions, Deathclaws, and Super Mutants. Yet I learned none of those were the danger. The real threat was humanity and what it can create with it's own hands.

\- - - -

"Audrey!" My name went right over my head. I heard it well enough, but my mind was elsewhere, distracted by other matters. Even as my ally repeated it, I remained in another realm of existence. A hand on my shoulder was enough to catch my eye, however.

I tilted my head, glancing over as I felt fingers wrap around my shoulder. I was in no fear - concern maybe, but hardly fear - as I was just shaking back into life itself. My eyes locked first on the vivid white star painted on my ally's armour. For some reason, that star always caught my eye. It had been my curiosity of that very symbol that had lead me to the mercenary group that terrorized much of the wastes; well, the star and greed. It was true that there was no better money in the wastes. I had been around, from Goodneighbor to Diamond City, seeking caps. Greed glistened in my eyes, looked into the field of danger as the shimmer of caps beckoned me into the claws of death - literally and hypothetically. This was where I made home, though. The Gunners.

I had heard the name a few times before, but the faction seemed very blunt on its own existence. Even as a member of this very faction, I can still hold true to those words. The mercenary faction is not looked for fame. They only seek fortune. No one is seeking to have their name remembered forever, and it seems like most members of this faction are satisfied to die rich, forever lost in history. The most anyone knew about the Gunners was that they were well-armed mercenaries. People who asked further questions were usually not well-received, and unless you had something more to offer the mercenaries, they didn't want to hear a word from you. If you weren't dropping a large pile of caps in front of their shimmering eyes or offering yourself up as a human bullet-shield, you weren't privy to their secrets, or welcome in their territory. So in all honesty, I couldn't tell you how I managed to crawl into the dirt hole they had nestled gently into. All I could say is that once I crawled in, I never wanted to leave. I burrowed my way into a deep dirt pit, covering myself in nicks and scratches on the way down, and to reward my persistence, I found fortune. There were more caps than I knew what to do with, guns of a caliber I never thought I'd have the glory to fire, and armour that could soak up bullets with no troubles. If you were willing to put your hide in front of the wasteland's fury, the Gunners would pay you well.

Sounded good to me.

"What do you want?" I asked with a sharp huff, tilting my head a little further to gaze into my ally's cloudy eyes. There was a slight venom in my tone, something that sort of became a part of a person when they sold themselves out to such a faction.

With a small chuckle, he responded, "You're friendly."

I was not smiling, but I knew my bluff would be called before I could even make use of it. I certainly wasn't the most friendly of people, but the opposite was equal. I was by no means one who sought everyone as a foe. He knew it, his smile widening as I spoke. "I'm not paid to be friendly," I insisted strongly. "Perhaps I'd be a more enjoyable person to be around if I wasn't unhappy about the current situation I was being forced into."

"What's the problem?" he purred, a sickening sound that made me both angry and comfortable at the same time, strange as that may sound.

I lifted a single hand, vaguely indicating to the stairs. "You know as well as I do what my problem is," I growled, bringing my hand back down even quicker than I lifted it up in the first place. The non-verbal indication was fully pointless. I knew. He knew. There were none to see the gesture who didn't already know the tale.

"The synth?" he asked icily, playing an innocent card as though it would change my opinion of the situation.

I nodded sharply. "She shouldn't be here."

He laughed boldly now. "Why are you so afraid of the Institute all of the sudden? You weren't afraid of them when you were shooting their synths in the face. Now we have one behind a thick glass wall and it's the one that's scaring you?" He released another round of laughter, and that was when I finally cut in, my voice sharply cutting him down.

"Jack!" I yowled. His laughter immediately stopped, his eyes lowering as I cut down his mockery. "This isn't funny, you know." I exhaled sharply before continuing. "This is a completely different situation than any other and you know that. The Institute is very defense over their crap. I know that, you know that, everyone here knows that. You shoot a synth in the face, blow their head off, there isn't anything left for the Institute to worry about. If I snapped your gun in half and threw it down a storm drain, would you go down there and get it? Of course not! You'd leave it behind. The Institute isn't going to bother fetching a synth who's a pile of spare parts. What they will fetch is one who's still kicking."

'That's what we're betting on," Jack replied with a sly purr. "The Institute has amazing technology - that much is clear. You know high scale tech costs big money. If every mediocre synth can afford to carry around fancy energy weapons, then that costs lots of money, and they're spending it. That means they have it to spare. We're betting on the Institute wanting their synth back. Think of how much money we can make selling their synth back to them."

"That isn't how this works!" I cried loudly. "We need to release the synth before the Institute figures out where we are."

Jack was very lax, completely ignorant of my words, my reactions. "We've stopped synth attacks before." Those were the first words from his mouth, and none following were any more pleasant to hear. "If the Institute wants their synth back unharmed, they'd best keep hostilities low. We'll shoot any synth who tries to approach us without a large pile of caps and a holstered weapon. We've already made our demands clear to them."

"Jack, I've been around. I've spoken to people. That isn't how the Institute is going to handle this. We've made it clear we aren't cooperating. I'm totally fine with ticking off their every day synth. Those things are frail and weak, but that isn't what they're going to send here. We're a hostile threat, Jack, and they've got something that will tear us down. When it gets here, we're all going to be targets for it's weapon, for its fury."

With a chuckle, Jack responded, "Just one?"

"From what I've heard, just one is all they need," I answered. "You know I had a lot of different jobs around, and believe it or not, I worked with the Railroad once." Before Jack could open his mouth, I hissed, "I know! Stupid idea! It was like working for a charity. The stupidity of my previous idea isn't important. What I learned from them was. The Institute has -"

Gunfire interrupted my words, and my eyes immediately diverted in the direction of the noise.

"Damn it! Who's attacking us now? Don't people in the wasteland learn?" Jack hissed. He moved towards the balcony, pushing wood and debris aside as he made in that direction. I followed, curious and concerned, hoping to find peace as my eyes beheld a group of foolish raiders. Raiders were common. They were on so many different chems, so badly brain damaged, that they often got the stupid idea the quantity could take us down. Raiders would've been good. It would be a nice relax on my mind. Jack was already learning over the rail when I reached him. "Idiot. Why the hell is he attacking us alone? What a dumb ass."

"What's going on?" I asked curiously, stopping short behind him, unable to see over the balcony yet. While a part of me was deadly curious to look, I even more was curious over Jack's words.

Jack shook his head, a small smile on his face. "I just can't believe the stupidity of people in the world sometimes," Jack hummed in a very casual and easygoing tone. "Some idiot is attacking this place completely alone. Shouldn't be a concern."

I was interested now. "What? Move, Jack. Let me see." I pushed him aside, which earned me an agitated huff.

I leaned over the balcony. Bullets were still being fired, angry howls from my fellow Gunners insisting their fellow allies had terrible aim. It took my eyes several moments to locate the attacker, though the barrels of the guns were a good indicator of where I should look first. Finally, I spotted the attacker. He was a tale male dressed in a deep black overcoat with slicked back auburn hair. He wielded a shiny white energy weapon, unique in every regard. As soon as I spotted the overcoat, fear raced into my heart, my blood rushed and my eyes widened. "Damn it! Damn it, Jack!" I quickly moved away from the balcony, putting myself in a safer spot, though I knew that would mean little eventually. "I knew this was going to happen! We're all dead, Jack."

"Calm down. He's just one person," Jack said very casually. Casual was not an appropriate reaction.

"He's not a person, Jack. He's a synth," I began strictly, keeping a sharp and serious tone. I knew otherwise I would not hold the attention of any trained Gunner. "And he's not just any synth. I heard about these ones in the Railroad. The Railroad was all about saving synths as you know, but they avoided these particular synths like the plague."

Jack was interested, even if only a little. That was a good start. "What made them so special? Why wouldn't the Railroad rescue them?"

"Because they don't want freedom. These specialized synths, their entire life is dedicated to the Institute. From what I heard, they're high-risk units that the Institute sends to get back their stolen or lost synths. They travel alone and they're damn good at their jobs. The Railroad knew taking them one would be death, even with numbers. This is a Courser, Jack."

"Courser? I've heard the word," Jack said.

"I'm sure you have," I huffed. "They're a rumor around the wasteland. They do exist, though. They can be easily recognized from their black overcoats and speech. They are one of the most dedicated professionals you will ever encounter. You won't kill this thing. It's going to get what it wants and it will kill anyone who gets in its way. If we don't give it the synth, it will compromise this entire place."

Jack couldn't help but laugh, and that only served to infuriate me further. "You're advertising too greatly in this guy's favour. He's just one synth. How much damage could he do?"

The gunfire had not ceased. Spots blazed on aggressively, whizzing into the sky and specking the ground with bullets. The male had not gone down yet. In fact, he had not even been hit. He moved with speed and grace, more lithe than a fox and aggressive as a Deathclaw. He fired with keen accuracy, sharply taking down men with quick shots. Lasers fired in a blind fury towards out building, and howls of pain were released into the sky as he landed his mark. I lifted a hand, serious expression on my face, indicating to Jack to watch the slaughter going on outside our window. The front door guards were going down like Bloatflies.

Jack leaned over the balcony. I moved beside him. The Courser moved towards the last of the guard, slipping aside as he fired a shot. The Courser lifted his gun, smashing the side of the weapon into the guard's skull with a loud crack. The guard collapsed to the ground with a howl, but the Courser did not relent. Lifted the laser weapon, he pointed it directly at the guard's head. There was not a moment of hesitation as the synth pulled the trigger on the guard. Blue energy spat from the weapon, burning the guard's skull into a pile of ash as soon as contact was made. Jack was speechless, staring at the bodies of the guard, lifeless. Outnumbered severely on arrival, the Courser now stood alone. Jack's jaw was draped open, eyes wide.

Before I could speak, the Courser took action. "Attention." The single word never sounded so droning, so lifeless. "I am unit Z2-47. I am here for the synth. Any who refuse to give her up or take hostile actions against me will die." The Courser now walked to the door.

"H-He..." Jack couldn't speak.

"What in the hell is going on?" a bark rang out as us. "What was with all the gunfire? What are you two doing?" It was a high ranking commander, though who exactly was a moot point.

"We're under attack by a Courser. He just entered the building," I said seriously, not a speck of a joking tone in my words.

The commander stared at me for half a second. "I want you two upstairs." He then turned around. "Anyone with a gun, man up! We're under attack!" Even as he stormed off, the words continued to echo down the halls, insistence of no mercy, orders to find the best weapons we had available, demands to not let down your guard around the enemy for even a moment. He understood my words. The commander knew what a Courser was. I turned to Jack, strong eyes locked on his form.

I huffed, "Do you believe me now?"

Jack stared. Then, as if his world had shifted, he grabbed his gun. "Upstairs, now!"

We raced to the highest level. Within mere moments the building had turned into a deadly warzone. I could hear gunfire from every corner I turned, screams and yowls as my allies stood up to the homicidal synth. As we ran, the commander has managed to reach a PA system and was now barking orders over the speakers for all to hear.

"What in the hell is with this thing? How is this Courser so powerful?" Jack was speaking to me now, throwing questions at me as we ran as though I had every answer in the world. I had some, but Coursers were widely a mystery.

"They're designed tough. Their only purpose is to kill far as I can see." I responded. "They can take on impossible odds. Numbers are a joke to them. I told you this already."

Loud explosions echoed throughout the halls. Orders were barked to fire any available missile launchers.

"Surely it can't survive missiles!" Jack howled.

"It sounds like it's doing a really good job right now," I growled in response as I slammed my fist on the elevator button. "Son of a bitch. I didn't want to go down like this."

Jack then said, "We're not going to die."

The elevator sprung to life, dragging itself upwards with a low groan. "How can you be sure? The only stories I've heard about Coursers is how powerful they are, how fighting one is a pointless endeavor. You saw it take out the front guard like they were nothing. There are explosions echoing through the building right this moment. Grenades, missiles, more high powered weaponry than I can track, and it's still alive. The Courser is still alive." I had rarely felt true fear before. Being a member of a powerful mercenary group like the Gunners made one brave, made such a concept become trivial and meaningless. I hadn't felt fear for years, because every time I stepped out into the world, I felt like I was superior to it. I hadn't felt inferior for years and had built up quite an ego, an ego that was biting me later, just as I had heard - and laughed at - people say it would. For the first time in years, I felt truly afraid. The fear made my knees weak. The fear weakened my morale, my motivation, my dedication.

"If it somehow gets past everyone, we're going to lock ourselves up here. All we've got to do is make certain it doesn't get up here," Jack insisted. His words meant little. "I've messed with the elevator. It shouldn't move once it arrives anymore."

Now over the PA I heard fear, orders for survivors in the squad to fall back. The Courser had to be progressing quickly. Survivors was the word of choice. This single synth was slaughtering us. Just one of the Institute's Coursers was making a mockery of the Gunners, tearing us to the ground as if we were petty Raiders. We were mere insects to the thing, and I was afraid. Over the PA, orders were directed to Jack and I indirectly, an insistence that no matter what, we not allow the Courser to retrieve the hostage. As we arrived upstairs, we found there were a couple others up here as well, more for that order to be tossed to.

As we arrived, as Jack and I waltzed into the room. I made myself clear to the others. "That order is bullshit," I immediately announced. "The Courser wants the synth. She isn't worth it. We need to just give her up."

"No!" growled the largest of the group. "I'm not letting this synth have her. I don't care how good of a shot he is. He isn't getting her. I have the password."

I knew rationalizing with him was pointless. As a Gunner myself, I knew such a concept was pointless. Yet, some part of my mind, an area which was in a blind panic, tried to anyways. "You need to give me the password."

"You're not getting the password. I'm not releasing the synth," growled the tallest male.

"I locked out the elevator," Jack said, trying to speak in a confident and clear voice. "The Courser can't get up here."

The tallest male nodded and huffed. "See? We're fine. Good work, Jack. This Courser might have killed many of our numbers, but we aren't going to let him get the better of the Gunners. He's just a fancy synth with a fancy gun, and everything has a weakness. A Deathclaw might look terrifying standing at great heights with sharp teeth and claws, but pop a bullet in it's chest and it goes down. If you know an enemy's weakness, if you can manipulate them, you can beat anything." He inhaled. "Men, we're going to get the Institute to pay up. Not just for the synth anymore, but to pay for the damage the Courser has caused. They'll pay for every spent life and every wasted bullet. That synth's fancy gun doesn't mean shit if he can't use it. Even he can't shoot through walls."

It was quiet downstairs now. No gunfire, no explosions.

"It's quiet," I said.

"What are you babbling about?" growled the tallest male, clearly still hostile at my words earlier.

"Sir," I began, a slight hostility to indicate my displeasure at being spoken to aggressively. "The noise is gone. There are no signs of a fight downstairs any longer. Everything is completely silent."

The tallest male turned his gaze away from the few others. "Attentive observation. Things are quiet. Perhaps someone finally took down that bastard synth." He turned his head towards another anonymous member of the group. "You there! Contact the commander. See if you can discover what's going on."

"Yes, sir!" replied the other before moving away.

I disliked the silence. The commander had been screaming over the PA and now there was nothing. To me, the cease in gunfire didn't sound comforting. It was terrifying. I couldn't speak. I didn't want to. I was afraid if I said anything negative, it would become true. It was as if part of my own being was hoping that as long as I said nothing negative, nothing of the sort would happen.

A howl came from the other room. "The commander isn't responding." I turned my head. I couldn't see the other Gunner. He had departed into an area out of our sight. I took a couple steps back. "I'll keep trying to - why is the elevator moving?"

The tallest male was now interested. I, however, was scared. The elevator was moving? The one we locked out? "What do you mean the elevator is moving? I thought it was locked out. Who in the hell is using the elevator?"

"I don't know. It just - oh god no!" I didn't need the words of terror. Just the sharp zapping sound echoing over the metal walls was enough to strike fear into my heart.

I stepped back in terror as a tall male clad in full black waltzed casually into the room, his energy weapon raised in our direction. The Courser. He looked completely unharmed, as if reaching us had just been a casual stroll in the part. For me, the terrified backstepping was less that I was astonished he reached us. I had a strong feeling the Courser would figure it out, that we would be unable to stop it. No, the fear was realization. I was quickly coming to a realization of the situation I was in, noting the danger I was in as it became more and more apparent. The Course had no one else in it's way. It was likely he had killed everyone else. That meant there were no other people to use to shield myself from the homicidal synth. It had me in its sights, its eyes flashing to my figure, its weapon more than in a prime location to fire at me. I knew the Courser would kill everyone in this room if he didn't get what he wanted. When the Courser glanced to me, even if it was only fleeting, I knew true terror.

"I made myself clear," he said. Z2-47. I remembered the name he had spoken outside. It was no more than a serial code, a series of randomized letters and numbers to identify property. "I can see you hold the synth in that cell." The hand gesture was barely noticeable. "I will give you one chance. Give me the password."

I wanted to yowl at the tallest male to do it, but my words were frozen in a thick block of ice crafted entirely of fear.

"You're not getting the synth!" yowled the tallest male.

"Wrong answer," Z2-47 said. There was no second chance, no repeating of the question. As soon as the male made it clear that he was not going to give the Courser the information he wanted, he fired. The Courser lifted his energy weapon a trifle higher, pointed the barrel at the male, and fired a crisp beam upon him. As soon as the sharp blue beam connected with the male's body, he disintegrated. His scream was cut short as his body melted into a pile of glowing ash. I had stepped back. I was even more terrified now. Did anyone else here even know the password?

"No!" yowled Jack and the other male in the room.

Z2-47 turned his gaze to the next closest person, the other male whose name I was not familiar with. "Give me the password. You know what will happen if you don't."

"I can't give it to you," the male said. The weakness in his voice betrayed nothing, at least not to me. He wasn't being defiant. The password was truly unknown to him.

As I expected, this answer did not bode well with the Courser. Just as mercilessly as he slaughtered the first of our group did he do so upon the next to deny him. Did Jack know the password? I was desperately hoping so. Two people had been fully reduced to glowing ashes, the eerie blue light betraying that a person had once been standing there. He was one-by-one tearing through us, and though I was satisfied that his eyes fell to Jack next, that didn't mean I wanted Jack to die. I was just putting off the inevitable.

"You are not putting yourself in a good position," Z2-47 droned dully, approaching Jack, who had fallen to his knees. "I will leave what little remains of your group if you give me the password. You do not need to die today. Give me the password now."

"I don't know the password!" Jack insisted, quickly adding on to his words before the Courser could organize what had been said to him. "I don't work up here. I was never told the password. The first man you shot knew it." Z2-47 was already lifting his weapon. "Wait! You have to believe that I don't know the password! Please! Don -"

My knees gave way as Z2-47 fired on Jack. Every single person who had ever walked these halls with me was dead. There were only two people left - and one of them was the very thing that had massacred every other living being in this building. I released a dreadful cry as I collapsed to the ground. Terror has truly taken claim of every muscle in my body. My heart had never raced so quickly, never been gripped by such blind fear. I felt like a terrified child, not a powerful mercenary. As I avoided looking towards the Courser and shivered aggressively, I heard footsteps moving slowly towards me. Fear held me in it's grimy fingers, refusing to allow its prey to escape.

It was when I felt the Courser's foot against my back that I howled out in terror again. He took his shoe and dug it strongly into my back before sharply dragging it to the side. He had flipped me over, forced my eyes to make contact with his. As I looked into the synth's eyes, I saw just how devoid of emotion he truly was. There was not a fiber of concern glowing in those lifeless eyes. This was nothing more than a job to him and I wasn't even certain if he thought anything of his murders. Sure, I had killed people without putting much merit on it, but I at least recognized that it was an act of aggression, and that many people did not take to it kindly. Did the Courser even know this? Did that concept even register with him.

"You are the last one here," Z2-47 said to me. "There is no one else for me to approach. This means you have no one to hide behind. You must give me the password." It was not a desperate comment; it was an adamant order.

"Please, you have to listen to me! Of the four of us in here, only one of us knew the password. I tried to get the password. I tried to have the synth released to you. I didn't want her here the whole time. I wanted her released. He wouldn't give me the password! I tried and he wouldn't give it to me! He insisted we could beat you. Please, I tried to hand her over. You have to believe me! I'll do whatever I can to help you get into that cell." Words spilled out of my mouth in terror, frenzied sentences tossed together in a desperate attempt to stop the Courser from shooting me down. I doubted it meant a thing, and I knew death was approaching.

The synth did not debate the words with me. He simply said, "So you're not going to give me the password?"

I cried in response, "I told you! It's not within my power! Surely even you can understand that I can't tell you something I literally don't know. Please, I offered to help. I'll do whatever I can. I told you. Just don't kill me, please. I would tell you if I knew!"

I knew it was pointless. I knew that as soon as I began arguing with him. He didn't care whether or not I could tell him. He just cared if I would. Z2-47 lifted his weapon, no change in emotion. I had to look away. I covered my face with my hands, unwilling to look at my own death.

That's why I missed it. I heard a series of loud bangs echo across the room. The Courser fired, but not at me. He wasn't aiming for me anymore. I heard him as he growled, "What the hell?" Even the astonishment was greatly lacking in emotion. It sounded like he wasn't actually astonished, but recognized he should have been astonished given the situation and thus tried to replicate the appropriate reaction. Replicate it poorly, that is. As more shots were fired, none at me, I finally looked. The Courser had vanished - or rather it would be more accurate to say he had hidden within a cloak. I was too clouded by fear to comprehend what was going on. There was another person, but no one I knew. They were shooting. Z2-47 was firing back at them. They were fighting. I couldn't accurately recount it. I could barely watch it without being dragged back into a realm of fear. It was over so quickly. The stranger took down the homicidal Courser. They stood near his body for a while, moved across the room, released the synth. The two spoke. The stranger walked past me, either ignored me or didn't notice. It was likely the former. The synth left too. Didn't care to be here.

I sat up eventually. I was uncertain how much time had passed. I was too terrified to react quickly. I was just thankful to be alive. My eyes fell to the lifeless body of the Courser. I stared at him, amazed. The one who had done so much damage was dead. That stranger was powerful, braver - and stupider - than I was.

I placed a single hand on the Courser's body. The stranger had left behind the weapon. I saw it laying nearby. With my free hand, I picked it up. I lifted the weapon and smashed it across the motionless corpse.

"Thumbs down you son of a bitch!"


End file.
